KALAMAZOO, MI - Muthanna Yaqoob, his wife and two kids have infused their
American life with traditions and tokens from Iraq.

But they have been preparing to say goodbye to their American life and even each other after Yaqoob's Iraqi government-funded scholarship was cut in fall 2012, more than a year before he earns his degree.

Yaqoob is a 39-year-old doctoral student at Western Michigan University, one of dozens who have come from the Middle Eastern country on a scholarship program aimed at rebuilding Iraq's higher education system. After
years of instability and war in Iraq, Yaqoob applied for the scholarship and moved his family to Kalamazoo
in 2008 for a better education, and paved the way as WMU's first Iraqi student. Last August, however, his scholarship was unexpectedly cut, the result of changes to the scholarship rules.

Yaqoob is studying on a J-1 student visa,
which does not allow him to work. His wife, Wafaa Abbas, has a J-2 visa, which allows her
to work but she is struggling to find a job, which is why she is
considering returning to Iraq to work.

"We have no money here and I have applied everywhere," she said.

Yaqoob's family in Iraq have been helping them make ends meet, but they cannot continue to burden them, he said.The reality of his family being split apart is becoming more of a reality.

“I’m preparing for that but I cannot live without them,” Yaqoob said,
pointing to an oil-on-canvas painting he made of his wife, which hangs
in their apartment living room. “It will be damaging for me; the walls
will kill me if I’m here alone.”

An American Life

When Yaqoob first came to America in 2008, he was told that he would be hated and says he mentally prepared for confrontation. His time in Kalamazoo has been different than what he expected.

“On
the contrary, I didn’t find that," he said. "I found people were
friendly and most people expressed being sorry for being involved in the
war and for their government. This hatred and aggression is basically
fueled by the government to the people. The common people do not have
this hatred.”

At 5:10 p.m., a
voice singing prayers streams from their computer speakers, reminding
the family of the Maghrib
prayer, the fourth of five daily prayers practiced in Islam.

Abbas misses her mother, with whom she often video-chats when an internet connection is available. They attend a local mosque and have made friends.

Belsem, Yaqoob's 11-year-old daughter, said getting used to boys in her classes was an adjustment when she started school, as boys and girls were taught in separate classrooms in Iraq. She says she’s asked by her peers why she wears a hijab, or a Muslim headdress.

Abbas receives similar questions about her hijab, but says she enjoys answering questions about her culture and religion.

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She doesn’t worry about her children being influenced by American culture.

“I’m going to teach them about Islam, my culture, and how to deal with Christians and the Jewish,” she said. “We want them to learn the good stuff but not the drug dealing and alcohol habits, just like any other parent. Any other culture you have bad and good. You have that in our culture too, but I’m going to teach them that we need to deal with this.”

Yaqoob’s 13-year-old son, Humam, plans to go to college, preferably in America and is concerned about the future of his education when he returns to Iraq.

"In terms of jobs and science opportunities, America has the
No. 1 in those categories," Yaqoob said. "I can find a better job as a geologist
or a researcher and for my kids and wife also, it's a better education for
them."